Here I is again. :)))

The sun had sunk and the moon was rising. Darkness flooded the forest, the only sound being crickets chirping and boots(and bare feet!) treading through the leafmold.

I was so tired, and sore. My ankles spasmed with a sharp pain at each step, but I pressed my lips tightly together and kept going.

I felt so grouchy I could throw a Gondorian vase at Frodo's head, no regrets.

The night was too dark, Frodo was moaning too loudly. Even the soft song of the crickets managed to get on my nerves. My temper broke so easily, sometimes it frightened me. My anger made me long for Esgalnoron even more, somehow being with him always eased my temper in a way, I wanted him so badly.

At a grunt from my father they all lay down, taking a brief rest.

Wordlessly I sat on the edge of the group, drawing my knees up to my chest and taking watch while the others slept.

I felt a warm tear trickle down my cheek, to my lips, were I tasted the bitter salt.

None of this was fair at all, no one should have to deal with this.

Everyone always got to be with the person they loved most, why not me?

And then I thought about it, and I realized: Finduilas had died when I was born, far too soon for Denethor. Rainor hadn't seen his dear brother in five years. Amathron hadn't seen his wife and children for more. It looked like I wasn't the only one.

But that only made me more angry.

I bit my lip so hard it bled, and tore the blades of grass around me with my fingers in anger. I could just get up right now. I could just get up right now and run off through the forest, run until I found him, I really could. But life didn't work that way, I wasn't going to get up.

Three more tears glistened down my face. Today, or some time near this day, was my birthday. I was thirty-one now, barely an adult in the life of a Dunedain.

Back in camp, when all had been well, Esgalnoron had always made my birthday a big deal. So had everyone; my birthday, and everyone else's, had always been an event.

No one knew today was my birthday, the Hobbits had no clue and Thorongil was so worried and focused on this mission, it was understandable he forgot. He probably had forgotten what month it was, that's just how he was during important things like this.

But still, it hurt.

I struggled to remember Esgalnoron's face, down to every detail, as a picture in my mind.

It was faded, blurry.

I buried my face in my hands, unbelieving.

I just cried silently like that for a long time, I don't know how long, maybe thirty minutes, maybe two hours.

When my well of tears finally dried up and wiped my eyes on my sleeves and leant back against the large inviting trunk of a tree.

I imagined what it would be like if Esgalnoron and I lived together in a house.

And then I went a little further and imagined what it would be like if...he told me he loved me...if maybe...we were married?

I wondered what it would be like to hold my baby, and look down at its face and see Esgalnoron there.

I wondered what it would be like to walk through Minas Tirith with him, hand-in-hand, gazing fondly at his enormous murals covering the large white walls.

And then I picked up a rock and hurled it at a tree across from me as hard as I could, because that would never happen.

And then I talked to myself about the unfairness of the world for the rest of the night.

:::::::::::::::::

Frodo was doing terribly. So terribly, we were all afraid he wouldn't live through another night.

"Thurin, watch Frodo. I must search for Athelas." Thorongil whispered urgently, touching my shoulder lightly.

I forced a smile on my cracked lips, catching his hand for a moment.

"It will be alright, Da. You are a skilled healer."

"Not skilled enough." He growled, hurrying off into the trees, harshly kicking opposing brambles aside.

A loud moan from Frodo brought me back from my tumultuous thoughts.

Rushing over I knelt down beside him, brushing back his dark sweaty hair.

He was barely conscious now, eyes rolling back dazedly.

I gripped his cold hand in my own, squeezing gently. I felt so angry, so powerless.

And then I heard a sound in the bushes.

I whirled around, drawing my blade so fast it nearly fell from my grasp.

"Hold, it is only me." My father stepped from the greenery, extended his hand carefully.

Everything about him looked calmer, it was strange. Slowly, I lowered my blade, hands shaking.

"Don't scare me like that again." I growled, taking a step back.

Thorongil stepped into the moonlight, followed by the most beautiful lady I had ever laid eyes on. Now, I had seen only several other females in my remembered life. I had gotten glimpses in Minas Tirith, but I had never conversed with them. I think my mouth must have fallen open.

Her long dark hair flew in waves behind her, she practically shimmered with a light of her own.

As she and my father hurried past me, I noticed that her ears were delicately pointed. An Elf.

I had never met one of those either.

"Fey,"

I tore my gaze away, and fixed it on my father.

"Take Sam, Merry, and Pippin and hurry, I will join you shortly."

I nodded mutely, grabbing Pippin's arm and hurrying to retrieve Sam before he murdered Strider for taking Frodo away from him.

"Where are we going? Who's she?" Pippin whispered worriedly as he motioned for Merry to come.

"I don't know-come on, Sam!-Pippin, just follow." I hissed, herding my indignant hobbity friends away.

Several minutes later we were joined by my father, who looked as if he had just stepped out of a cloud.

"Da?"

"Hmm...what? Fey...ah yes...what was it you were saying?" His face was bright red, I resisted the urge not to snicker.

"What now? Who was she? Where is Frodo?" I demanded, holding back a blood-thirsty Sam.

"She is taking him to Rivendell, they are trying to out-run the black riders."

I shuddered.

"What of us?"

"We make for Rivendell as fast as we can, and try to stay alive."

"Ah, alright. Let's go."

Thorongil scooped up Merry and Pippin, and began running through the woods.

I grabbed Sam's wrist and dragged him after.

"What are we doing?" I screamed, trying to catch up.

"We are trying to divert the attention of the black riders, hurry."

"They won't buy it."

"I know, but it might buy Frodo a little time."

And we ran through the dark night, barely being able to think as the cold wind whipped by us, wildly hoping Frodo would be alright.

Will they make it to Rivendell? Will Frodo be alright? Will I be able to update AT ALL during November as I participate in National Novel Writing Month? Hopefully! Tune in soon to catch the next adventure!

PLEASE REVIEW

Hannon le,

~Thurin